“I didn’t mean anything by that,” said Gray apologetically.

Bester smiled and started down the corridor. “Of course not. Do you know, there have been studies showing that shorter men are actually more predisposed toward telepathy. Do you suppose that could be evolution making up for a height disadvantage?”

“I read the Berenger Study, too,” answered Gray, “but I didn’t think that he proved his hypothesis. For example, the same study showed that taller women were predisposed toward telepathy. It looks to me like a statistical aberration.”

“That’s why I wanted to pick you up myself,” said Bester with satisfaction. “To have some time to talk with you. You know, this assignment won’t last very long, just until we iron out the details of the conference and get the weekend started. However, I am looking for a new assistant.”

Gray was caught off-guard by Bester dangling a ripe promotion in front of his nose, but he blocked his reactions as best he could. He could feel the Psi Cop probing his mind for a reaction, but he thought he had a very effective way to shut the probing down.

“Yes, I heard about poor Ms. Kelsey,” said Gray, shaking his head. “Terrible tragedy.”

Bester shrugged and stopped his scan. “She knew the risks. We got our man, that was the important part. Of course, when you went to Babylon 5, you also came back minus one.”

Touchй, thought Gray. “Yes, that was also a tragedy,” he said with all sincerity.

“Nonsense,” snapped Bester. “Ben Zayn was a weakling, a war burnout. Just like Sinclair.”

The man in the black uniform swept down another corridor, and Gray hurried after him. Except for the ease of moving in the light gravity, there was no indication that they were on Mars. The docking area looked like any other space facility designed for oxygen-breathers; there were the usual crowded corridors, gift shops, florists, news-stands, restaurants, and credit machines. One had to go to an observatory dome to see anything of the red planet.